Chapter 5: The Confrontation I

"You've been busy, Vivian."

The voice came from behind her, smooth and cold. Vivian's blood turned to ice. She spun around, her heart slamming against her ribs. Damian stood in the doorway of the library, his silver-grey eyes fixed on her face. He was holding something in his hand. A photograph.

Her photograph.

"I was just—" she started, but the words died in her throat.

"Looking for answers?" He stepped into the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "I told you not to open that door, Vivian. I warned you what would happen if you kept digging."

"You didn't warn me about anything," she said, her voice shaking. "You just told me to stay away from the attic. You never told me why."

"Because you weren't ready." He stopped a few feet away, holding up the photograph. "You found these, didn't you? The photographs."

She didn't answer. She didn't need to.

"Who are they?" she asked instead. "Who are all those women?"

Damian's expression didn't change. "You always ask the wrong questions, Vivian."

"Then what's the right question?"

He was quiet for a moment, studying her face. Then he said, "The right question is: why do you keep searching for things that will only hurt you?"

"Because I deserve to know the truth."

"The truth." He laughed, a soft, hollow sound. "You think the truth will set you free. You think knowing will make everything better." He shook his head slowly. "Some things are better left buried, Vivian. Some doors are locked for a reason."

"Then unlock them." She stepped closer, her hands trembling. "Tell me who those women are. Tell me why you have photographs of women who look like me. Tell me the truth, Damian."

He was quiet for a long moment. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly, marking each agonizing second. Then he said, "I've been trying to protect you. I've been trying to keep you safe from the things you don't understand."

"Then help me understand."

"You can't handle it." His voice was cold now, hard as stone. "You think you can, but you can't. The truth would destroy you."

"It would set me free."

"It would shatter you." He stepped closer, his eyes burning. "You've built your entire life on a foundation of things you don't know. If I tell you the truth, that foundation crumbles. Everything you believe about yourself, about your family, about your past—gone. Is that what you want?"

She held his gaze. "I want to know who I really am."

"You're Vivian Carrington." His voice was flat, final. "You're my sister. You're my family. That's all you need to know."

"I'm not your sister." She shook her head slowly. "I never was."

"You are." His voice cracked, a flash of something raw and desperate. "You are, and you will always be. I don't care what the papers say. I don't care what the letter says. You're my sister, and I will never let you go."

"I'm not your sister," she said again, her voice stronger now. "And I'm done pretending."

She turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His grip was strong, bruising.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're staying here. You're staying with me."

Vivian wrenched her arm free, her heart pounding. "Try and stop me."

She ran.

---

She didn't stop running until she reached her bedroom. She slammed the door shut and locked it, her chest heaving. Her hands were shaking, her pulse racing. She pressed her back against the door, trying to catch her breath.

She had to leave. She had to get out of this house before he trapped her like he'd trapped the others.

She grabbed her bag and started throwing clothes into it. Her phone, her wallet, the letter and the birth certificate. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay here.

A knock on the door.

"Vivian." Damian's voice came through the wood, calm and controlled. "Open the door."

"Go away."

"Vivian, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. You're my sister. You're my family."

"You don't have a family," she said, her voice cracking. "You destroyed your family. You killed Emilia. You killed your parents. And now you're trying to destroy me."

Silence. Then, softer: "I'm not going to destroy you, Vivian. I'm trying to save you."

"From what?"

"From the world." His voice was almost a whisper. "The world is cruel. It would take you away from me. It would destroy you. I won't let that happen."

She pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. He was insane. He was completely insane. And she was trapped in a house with him.

"Vivian," he said through the door, "I need you to understand something. I will protect you, no matter what it takes. I will keep you safe. And I will never, ever let you leave."

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

She tried the door again. The key still worked. The windows were still sealed. But as she reached for her phone, she noticed something. No signal. The bars were gone. She tried to call—nothing. He'd cut her off from the outside.

A soft click echoed from the door. Her blood ran cold. She stared at the lock, watching as it turned from the other side.

She was trapped.